


The 2014 Saint Valentine's Day Accords

by Entwife_Incognito



Series: "Mistletoe" [4]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: "Mistletoe" series, Boobgasm, F/M, Friendship/Love, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Jane and Lisbon have a hot and lovely Valentine's night sorting out some important things about the nature of their physical relationship. It's heating up, not quite there but on its way, opening into the mildly sexual in this installment. Number 4 in the "Mistletoe" series, but can stand on its own. I plan one more story for this series, 'Bluebonnets in the Hill Country.' Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.Originally posted at FFnet on February 1, 2014. Now here with minor refining edits.





	

**Author's Note:**

> While there is a wonderful sprawling restaurant called The Oasis terraced along a bluff overlooking Lake Travis near Austin, it does not have docking for boat access or flights of steps cut into the bluff to climb to the restaurant from a pier. So, I took the liberty of creating these fine improvements for them.

Jane pressed a single blood-red rose into her hand. Lisbon saw not hot arterial blood that flowed bright with oxygen. But deep venous blood whose oxygen had been spent, burned in passion and holding hints of black and purple as it traveled through dark veins back to the heart to be replenished. Strong, oily and from the old world, the rose's scent murmured the somnolent languor of slow seduction. It plucked her like a stringed instrument, the thrum coursing deep.  


She held it to her nose, a meditation breath pulling in the scent of the fleshy silken petals that brushed her skin. To Jane, its color was a bruise against her pale pink cheeks. So strong, something vaguely medicinal carried the huge burden of sweet rose perfume on its thin shoulders and cloaked them both in its sweet spell.  


Eyes dark, half hidden by the low sweep of her lashes, Teresa's voice was whisper-soft. "Thank you, Patrick. It's so wonderful."  


His fingers cupped her upper arms, generating a shiver as he gently slid his hands down to pull her in for a kiss, sharing the rose scent as it trailed away in the hand that came to rest on his back. "I love you." Another kiss.  


When she let go, he caught her hands, enfolded them in his and squeezed a little to draw her attention to them. She saw that he wore no ring. Rose perfume rushed into her throat when she gasped, forcing a little cough as the heavy scent scraped her tongue and piled into her throat, burning like sugar and making her eyes water. She used the hand with the rose to touch the indentation where the ring had been, then caressed it with the petals. Their hearts full of a weighty joy, no words of hers were needed. Instead, she threw herself against him, face uplifted and they shared a long kiss, his arms around her back to hold her close.  


They both wore red that night, Jane a softly draping polo with a denim sport coat. The tops of his dark boots hid in the stovepipe legs of his jeans. Lisbon placed a large white rosebud on his lapel, rewarded with a breathy nuzzle to her ear that made her nipples rise. Flushing, she was glad his arms supported her. "You look so handsome. I never imagined you could wear red."  


"Just have to find the right shade." He brushed a strand of her wavy hair back into place, so dark and warm against her pale complexion, now painted with the color of her heat. "But that sweater, Lisbon . . . " Growling, he held her away to look at the flow of its red ripe cling across her body. "You obviously wear red very well."  


Her eyes narrowed with pleasure at his compliment. "There are a few shades I can't carry off." She changed the subject. "You were a little mysterious about our destination. Upscale casual, you said. Comfy."  


He helped her into a lined leather jacket. "And we'd better get moving. Our reservations are at seven, and the sun is already low." As he started to escort her out the front door, he said, "We go by boat. I hope you'll let me pilot. It's a good jaunt."  


"Sounds exciting! Of course I'll turn my navigation duties over to the First Mate." She smiled happily and gave him one last peck on the lips. He loved it when she called him that! "I'll drive us to the slip, and then I can drive myself home. But first, something to carry my rose with me." Choosing a narrow heavy vase from a seldom-opened cabinet, she settled her rose in a bit of water, and they breathed its dolorous perfume as they drove to the lake.  


The night was cool, but not cold, the breezes light. Still, they dressed warmly against the open air. Lisbon relaxed in her seat, her rose set safely in a nook on the steering console, as Jane piloted her boat, his Christmas present to her, The Mistletoe. She was yar!  


Soon they rounded a bend and saw lights and a wash of colorful outdoor umbrellas cascading down a terraced bluff overlooking the lake. In the dark it looked a little like a balloon lift, the umbrellas illuminated from underneath by lights on the tables. Jane moored the boat and Lisbon tied it off. They walked flights and flights of winding steps cut into the bluff to get to The Oasis restaurant, huge and sprawling.  


The fare was mainly southwest and Tex-Mex. The Valentine's Day special menu was tempting, but just too much to eat, so they ordered from the regular menu instead. They had the Shrimp Diablo. Lisbon ate every one of hers. Jane enjoyed watching her stop at the end of every mouthful to fan her open mouth and slosh in icy beer to kill the heat. She downed two beers that way, a lot for little bird! Jane noticed that his mirth at her blissful distress pleased her. She would smile at him as her eyes went dark and her beer-wet tongue darted across her bottom lip.  


For dessert, they split a Berry Sundae, Jane pushing all the blueberries her way because he knew little bird loved to make them pop in her mouth. He took the fresh strawberries and Lisbon watched them paint his lips. They finished with lots of steaming aromatic coffee, even Jane, as they talked and watched the lake in the darkness, glittering with light reflected from houses along the shore or traffic on the water. Removing his sports jacket while he ate, Jane found he enjoyed the mildly brisk night air. Lisbon stole glances at his nipples, tiny points under his shirt and found that when he looked at her his eyes would dilate and his nipples harden to small knots.  


They made a pit stop in the washrooms to shed all the beer and coffee from their meal. Having kept his alcohol consumption very low, Jane felt comfortable to make the quiet trip back. "Do you want to take a little spin on the lake before we go in, look at the lights on the water?"  


"I'd love it. It's so peaceful out here. I love being on the lake at night, running with our lights. It's kind of romantic, so quiet. Except for the motor. That's kind of loud."  


"We'll take The Mistletoe out to a nice spot and just float awhile with the motor off. How's that?"  


"Perfect."  


Huge when it appeared over the horizon, the full moon cast its reflection as a wide spear of pale yellow, wavering on the rippling surface of the water. The lake was hardly silent. Frogs croaked somewhere on the banks while night birds and insects created the more diffuse atmosphere of sound that teemed in any waterway. The scent of the large body of water, full of its own life, was elemental, permeating and cleansing, Lisbon's rose an intermittent sweet top note.  


She took a deep breath and sighed, looking at Jane in his seat. He opened his arms and she came to stand between his legs, leaning her back against his chest as he sat. He pulled her close, hands wandering her soft sweater, longing to dance on her breasts but skating chastely away, uninvited.  


"Happy?"  


"I'm always happy on The Mistletoe. It's like a giant, um . . . "  


"Your muse is failing you?" Jane had been teasing her about a poetic streak that nature seemed to bring out in Lisbon at times. "How about . . . uh . . . like a giant cup of chamomile tea?"  


She pushed against him, laughing. "You would think about tea."  


"Tea is very relaxing. Especially chamomile."  


"All right. My muse accepts chamomile tea." She turned to face him and he was already leaning to her lips.  


"Mmmmm. Kissing in the moonlight on the water is so romantic," Jane said against her lips in between kisses.  


"Especially on Valentine's Day."  


"Is it Valentine's Day?"  


"Mmmmmm."  


They didn't say anything else for quite awhile, the boat rocking them gently together on the surface of the lake. Jane held Lisbon's waist, nibbling her soft neck and throat, taking in her fragrance with the music of her soft moans and gasps. She broke by moving closer into his embrace, kissing his jaw before resting her head against him. He stopped his hands from assuming a place of right on the enticing mounds of her bottom. The pair listened to the lake as the mild current slapped the prow. In silent agreement, Lisbon stepped back to her seat and Jane started up the boat to head back to land.  


Tying The Mistletoe off at the dock and securing her cover, they made it to Jane's Airstream without incident, rose and vase in hand. No sooner had they shed their coats than they were standing in each other's arms again, kissing in the darkness of the trailer, too enthralled to turn on a light.  


They heated fast, Lisbon still slightly buzzed from drinking, having washed down so much beer cooling her lovely mouth. A thread of desire blossomed in Jane, wanting to know its softness, its taste and how she would respond. He stopped before he would delve into that mouth and lose himself there, unwilling or unable to pull away. Lisbon groaned and, lowering her head, pushed up his shirt, baring his chest.  


"No buttons tonight . . ." Running her hands along his ribs and under his arms, she began to kiss his chest, her hot little tongue wetting him, fingertips softly playing his nipples. He wanted to savor every bit of it, but when she put her mouth on his nipples and gave him a wet little bite, blood rushed to his groin like a crack of thunder. They were moving too fast and in seconds he would have her on her back if she would go! He was sure that was not her intention.  


Pushing her gently away, he gasped, "What are you doing?"  


The dark sparks of her eyes trained on him as she issued a groan of terrible frustration that contained both seething desire and anger for the disruption. "Kissing your beautiful skin!"  


"Do you plan to stop? Before I get you undressed and on your back, I mean?"  


Her chest was heaving, a sheen of perspiration on her face, and she looked away, guiltily. "Yes, probably."  


"Before we actually make love?"  


"Yes."  


"Then you need to stop now."  


"But I like this. I thought you would too. I want us to go further." She sighed and gave him a look she hadn't before, a dare. "I thought you were a toaster. On and off?"  


"For getting ready and turning on, yes. For when it's over and turning off, yes. For turning on and never getting to off, no. I won't do it."  


"Oh. I wanted to do something more for you . . . and give myself more of you because well, it's Valentine's Day and . . . we had such a nice evening." She sighed. "It was stupid."  


"Sorry."  


"No. I understand."  


"I don't think you do. We've been drinking and . . . we obviously desire each other very much. But you . . . suddenly jumping in like this . . . I just had to be very sure what was happening . . . what we were doing . . . what you wanted. If it had changed."  


"Of course I understand. Really. It's good you asked so there's no confusion. What I want hasn't changed."  


It had to be the alcohol. He'd never seen Lisbon quite like this. Her distinctly coquettish look washed over his nerve endings, an electric field aligning him to her like a magnet. If she continued, he'd be lost.  


"Yes. I just thought you'd . . . do what I do." She coughed and reddened. All that beer sloshing on her hot tongue was making it wag too easily!  


He coughed, too, an attempt to cover the drumming tattoo of his heartbeat and his sudden need for air. "And that is?"  


The beer let her just say it and move on. "Finish later by myself."  


Helpless at the picture she conjured in his mind, he spluttered, "What? Is that part of your Catholic school training?" He couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you trying to tease me, Lisbon, put naughty little movies in my head?" He was hanging by a thread and he let it show in his eyes.  


Her blush was a flare of heat and displeasure. "I wouldn't do that."  


He took pity on her by making his own confession. "No. You wouldn't. Hey, I've done that plenty of times. And, to get ready to see you."  


Mouth twitching, trying not to smile, she couldn't help feeling very satisfied with herself just the same. He did that because of her! Lots of times! "Now who's trying to tease?"  


"Oh, so you'd like a little naughty movie, too? Maybe soon, Lisbon."  


"But now, you don't want . . . a little something for now?"  


"Not kissing my naked skin. No. Not when the object definitely stops at arousal and not completion."  


"Haven't my kisses aroused you before?" She knew they did.  


"Of course. But that hasn't been the main reason. You've meant them to love me, not to seduce or take me. That's why I want so many of them. They're the sweetest kind."  


"But hot kisses . . . no?"  


He just couldn't bring himself to take advantage of her. Taking the risk of overwhelming her passionate nature in an overheated moment when she'd been drinking would only undermine the trust she had built in him, so hard-won. "It doesn't work like that. Listen to me."  


He waited until he saw the banked green fire in her eyes. Once aroused, this ardent woman did not like to be thwarted. He was no different. "It will make me angry if I have to stop. My feelings will be really hurt, Lisbon. I don't turn on and off like that. You start making love to my naked skin and I'm on. I'm aroused. And I think I'm going till I'm off."  


She looked guiltily up at him. "I know. I'm just mad now."  


"Maybe it sounds unreasonable but I'm not going to go half way with you and make myself sad and resentful. Because I will stop if you ask me to. I understand your feelings and that you're not ready. But if you're not, you're not. You can't be half-ready with me. You'll have to wait until you're all ready."  


"What if I touch you and we go until you're off?"  


He kissed her. "You don't know how tempting that is. What about you, then?"  


"I'll wait . . . until I get home."  


The image of Teresa passionate at home because of kissing him, touching him, driving him to the finish made his mind fire and ice. Fire because of the intensely erotic images. Ice because she would be alone, without him to be the agent of her undoing.  


"No. I don't get it all, and you, nothing. And I want to touch you if you touch me."  


She lowered her head, thinking. Her chin still low, she looked up at him with big eyes, "You can touch me until I'm off."  


Jane laughed. "What is this, a swap meet?" Then, more seriously, "You don't go off once. I think that's just the start with you. You'll want more and carry me along. Then you'll regret it."  


"I can. I can go once."  


"I don't read you that way."  


"What's that mean? You don't know that about me."  


"You have a passionate nature. It's easily triggered. You don't go once with a naked eager man. You go as many times as you can with your lover."  


"No! I don't have to. There's plenty of times I haven't." She snapped her lips shut and turned beet red. He really didn't have to know that. "And I didn't say anything about naked."  


"Lisbon. You had my shirt up and you were French-kissing my nipples! I call that naked. What if I was doing that to you? Would it be naked, then?"  


Before her embarrassment could turn to anger, Jane brought her to his chest for a hug. "You can't toy with me, Lisbon. I can be hurt, just like you."  


Jane looked right into her eyes. "If there are lots of times you only had one . . . orgasm . . ." He paused for emphasis. "Or none at all . . . you weren't with a man who was looking after you. Either he was looking after himself or you were already bored with him and you let him think it was enough."  


Lisbon gawked at him. How could he know this?  


"I wouldn't let you get away with that. You wouldn't be bored with me. If you went only once it would be because I prolonged your pleasure to such a pitch . . . "  


She cocked her head, amazed at his bold words.  


" . . . that when you went off it would be more than enough."  


She folded her arms. "You're very sure of yourself."  


"It's not about sex for me, not with you, not just about getting off. We just said we can do that for ourselves. Making love is an extension of my feelings for you, a part of them that can't be communicated any other way. I would be getting to know you at a new level. And I would want you to know me. Not just tension relief." He grinned. "Not that we wouldn't do that sometimes after . . . "  


She was quiet, and then finished his thought. "After we have that door of communication wide open."  


"Yes." He took a deep breath. "You'll have to find someone else for this."  


Her head came up sharply, mouth agape. "I don't want anybody else! I want you!"  


He smiled, loving her outburst. "But not just yet. That's okay."  


"God. I'm acting like an idiot! You'd think I was an inexperienced virgin, or something!"  


"I don't think that."  


She searched his face, eyes narrowed and suspicious of his meaning, only to find him grinning again.  


"I want the full benefit of your experience. All of it. And you can have mine."  


She smiled self-consciously below bright pink cheeks, saying nothing.  


"I'll tell you what I do think about what you're doing now." He waited to see if she wanted to hear it.  


"Go ahead."  


"I think you love me but you don't trust me to be here for you. It makes you unable to open yourself totally to me. And that's the only kind of sex you want with me. You know that's what I want with you. I think you're panicking because it's taking a long time for you to trust me that much, and you're afraid that if you don't offer me more, or offer yourself to me soon, I'll lose interest and go away."  


It was all true. Lisbon's eyes shifted to her feet.  


Holding her arms gently, Jane waited until she looked at him. "I won't do that. And that's a child's thinking, Teresa. I want our physical relationship to be a deeper way to love each other, that's all. Not just something we do to get off. Although we might do that sometimes, after . . . "  


There were tears in her eyes. "After we have our communication wide open?"  


"Yes."  


Lisbon flopped onto the couch. "Is there anything on television?"  


Jane laughed out loud. "Surely we can think of something better to do! We don't have to numb ourselves with television instead!"  


But Lisbon's mind was already on other things. Jane's present! He'd taken off his ring! That made her present even better! Lisbon jumped up. "What are you going to do with your wedding ring, Jane?"  


"Hmmmm?" His concentration broken, he stepped back in surprise. What? "Uh. I don't know. I thought I'd put it on a chain or something. Maybe wear it around my neck." Why had she brought this up, now? "Would you feel comfortable with that?"  


Smiling, Lisbon dug into her coat pocket and pulled out a small navy box, tied in a large simple bow of wide red satin. The bow was sprigged with bits of white garland springing tiny white hearts. She held out the box to Jane.  


"How nautical . . . and sweet . . . and even patriotic!"  


"Stop. Go on. Take it." She pushed it onto his hand.  


Undoing it carefully, he pulled out a cunning gold chain, strong but not too heavy. He looked at Lisbon quizzically.  


"For your ring."  


"How did you know-?"  


"I didn't. I just liked the chain and thought it would look good on you. Tonight, when I saw you had taken off your ring, I was so happy. I hoped it might be just the thing." She unconsciously fingered the cross on the chain around her neck.  


"Oh, it is. It's perfect." Tipping the chain from hand to hand, he watched it flow like charmed water. "How beautiful!" He set the chain and wrappings on the table, went to his room in the back and returned with the ring. Threading the chain through, he put it over his head, looking down as it lay above his heart.  


Lisbon reached and caressed it there, already warm from his body. "Just like I thought it would look."  


She smiled, starting to draw away, but he put a hand on her arm and stopped her for a grateful kiss. "I love it." Then, he reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a little hinged red box tied with tiny white ribbon. This was going to make little bird flutter in fright. "Now it's not what you think, Lisbon," he assured her. "But, open it."  


Lisbon looked at him solemnly, chewing her bottom lip, stealing glances at the elegant box. A ring? But not an engagement ring, obviously. Finally, her eyes anxiously darting to his softly smiling ones, she took it from his hand, pulling the tiny ends of the ribbon to open the bow. When she raised the lid, she gasped quietly at the beautiful ring that lay inside. "It must be a promise ring."  


"Yes, it is."  


Lisbon gazed at the dazzling thing, simple, with three diamond-cut emeralds, dainty and dark, flashing from the gold band. Then she looked at Jane. "What are you promising, Patrick?"  


"Never to run away. Ever. And if something happens, if we get separated, that I will be trying everything I know until I die to get back to you." His eyes were so earnest, so full of love and determination.  


Amazement at his meaning nearly overwhelmed her as she gazed into his darkened eyes, her head slanted, unable to take it all in. "That's a pretty great promise." Tears rolled down her cheeks and she struggled with trembling fingers to remove the ring to put it on. On which finger did he want her to wear it? She managed to get it over the tip of the ring finger of her right hand before Patrick gently stopped her and removed it. "No. Here." He transferred it to the ring finger of her left hand and slipped it into place. "There's a reason I won't ever run away again."  


"You want to put a different ring here some day."  


"Yes, I do. Will you wear this ring there until then, Teresa?"  


"Yes! I just didn't want to assume . . . "  


"I'm an ass for not making it clear. Forgive me."  


"Nothing to forgive. You make me very happy. It's a perfect step. I'm glad you're willing to move slowly with me, Patrick." Something harsh and coiled was unraveling inside her. Noticing it now, she could tell that it had been wound for a long time. Its dissipation enervated her and she had to sit down. Something lonely opened up and only Jane would do. She didn't care if she sounded weak. "Hold me. Please. I'm so tired, so alone."  


"No! Lisbon! You're not alone. I'm here. And I will be. I promised. Remember?" Sitting next to her on the couch, he scooped her into a close embrace, resting her gently on his lap and she settled her cheek on his shoulder. Lifting her hand to his heart, he caressed the ring he had just put on her finger. "And because of you, I'm not alone either." Her soft sweater flowed under his hand as he stroked her arm.  


"Unnnnnh, this sweater! It does things to me!" He held her away and looked his fill, following its clinging lines.  


"It was willing to do things to you, but you turned it down!" She blushed under his gaze but straightened her posture a little to feature what she knew he wanted to see in their best light.  


"What was I thinking?"  


"You were thinking of me."  


"Of us, really."  


"But me, just then." She shifted in his embrace to look up at his face. "Jane?"  


"Hmmmm?" He wanted to cup her soft outline so badly, but he got lost in her deep, dark eyes instead.  


"I love you. I love you so much. You mean everything to me."  


"Oh. God. Teresa, I love you."  


Their kiss was not so chaste this time, her small tongue darting between his lips. She let him capture it, suck the tip gently as his breathing grew loud over a pounding heart. Tenderly, he drove his tongue into her welcoming mouth, so small and soft, wet and warm. His hand searched the surface of her sweater for something soft to fill it and she leaned back in his arms to make it easier for him to find.  


The sensation of his large hand on her breast - just how much it could hold, how deftly it handled her, felt her, thumb roving the peak - traveled through her like a raging river, her heart hammering as a familiar heavy tension pooled low in her body. His kisses intensified and he moved his hand to the other, the sweater a teasing layer that made her skin long for his bare hand, adding to the charge searching everywhere for an outlet.  


When she began to moan, his petting slowed, his touch firmer and more sensual, drawing the tips between his thumb and finger, surprised when he felt her arch across his legs, then driving her further in a fit of his own heat. She held onto him as he leaned over and listened to her wavering cries, cradling her as she broke apart in his arms.  


"Jesus, you're so beautiful!" He let his hands flow over the waves of her hair, fingering a few dark strands away from her face, then kissed her again as her breathing settled.  


When he broke the kiss, she was smiling at him. "You touch me . . . the way you touch me . . . it's perfect."  


The pleasure of her words welled out of him in a few tears although he smiled as broadly as she'd ever seen him.  


"I wasn't expecting that. I wish you could have been with me."  


"I was. Right here with you."  


"But, I mean, to give you . . . "  


"You've given me everything I wanted, tonight."  


"More than enough. That's what you gave me after all." Reaching a hand, she gently stroked his scruffy face. "I'm not sure I ever had an orgasm from just my boobs before."  


"Passionate." He grinned and arched an eyebrow, knowingly. "I'm a lucky man."  


"You always have to win. I'd say our long, kissing celibacy played a large part. But I'm glad to concede this time. And I won, too. See? I can go once."  


"Oh, you think this counts, do you? An accidental, fully-clothed, boob-gasm?"  


She lightly backhanded his chest. "Well, doesn't it? The feeling was in the same place."  


He tried to think of a reason to deny her claim, but couldn't. "Yes. I suppose it does. I certainly can't claim to have prolonged your passion."  


"Remember that." She knew she looked smug, and delighted in it.  


She was still in his lap, lying in the cradle of his arm, lightly swinging her dangling feet as he leaned over to be close to her face, watching and listening to her chat as if they were sharing a cuppa.  


"I'm trying to figure out why it was it all right for you to touch me like that, but you wouldn't let me touch you?"  


"It's not easy to say. It was just how it felt. Neither of us expected what happened to you. I wasn't even touching your skin. Do you think I was wrong?"  


"No. That's the weird thing about it. It should be the same, but it's not. But it's right."  


"Well, if we agree on it, at least it's right, huh? For us."  


"I think it's because we're so close . . . to . . . communicating. Everything won't mean the same to each of us. But you'll be giving to me and I'll be giving to you. It will be about what we each need. And all that will matter is our happiness."  


He pressed a tender kiss on her lips.  


Her eyes were warm, loving him, as she stroked his cheek again. "I want to make love with you, Patrick."  


Understanding her, he smiled but teased anyway so that he could hear her answer and be sure. "Now?"  


"Oh! I'm sorry, no, not right now tonight. I don't know when exactly. But soon." Her expression was concerned as the words spilled out until she saw the playful look in his eyes.  


"That's good. Because I think you've just about wrecked me for tonight. I shudder to think what my condition will be after you make love to me!"  


Faking an evil grin, she echoed his words from the poker lesson with the gummy dinosaur pot. "I'm gonna smoke you!"  


"Firebird."  


"Stop." Clamping her lips together failed to hide the pleasure in her wriggling smile.  


"You are."  


Although he had never felt so close to her, he realized she would flutter away from his arms again, fearful of her yielding confessions. But she would not go far. She was his little bird and she would always come back to him, always know that he was her home, and she, his.  


Lisbon began to yawn. "I need to get back." Jane peppered her with kisses before letting her up and then insisted she have some coffee before she left. "Call me when you get home."  


"Yes, Dad." Her merry green eyes peeped at him over her cup as she sipped the hot brew.  


"I know you want to go home, Lisbon, but you do know you'll have to come back and get me tomorrow so that I can get my truck from your place."  


"You could come with me if you want, and get it tonight."  


"Do you hate the idea of coming back tomorrow?"  


"No! Not at all. We can take The Mistletoe out on the lake if the weather's nice. Maybe hit The Oasis again and try their lunch menu."  


"Sounds like a plan! Thanks for making the extra trip. I'd rather not make the drive tonight."  


Lisbon set her cup in the sink and sidled up to him for a hug and a kiss goodbye, putting her arms around his waist and opening by kissing his cheek as he leaned to her lips. "No problem. I'd offer you to stay the night, but after tonight . . . "  


How far would little bird flutter away? "After tonight . . . ?"  


"I might not be able to keep my hands off of you."  


"And that's a bad thing?"  


"That's a fast thing."  


Lisbon saw his soft smile, tempered by the longing he held at bay. "But I'll be back in your arms in no time tomorrow, ready for more kisses!"  


Already flying back! "Have you thought about how many kisses we owe Christmas now? We won't have presents for ten years!"  


Laughing, Lisbon remembered how their first kiss was under mistletoe that Jane had given her. She'd brought it out again to use for New Year's Eve, but the next morning Jane said it wouldn't work anymore and they'd just have to steal their kisses from then on. "Maybe we'll get credit for not making love too soon."  


"If that's true, then Christmas owes us a fortune in kisses!"  


"Tomorrow."  


He swung her around to face him as he gave her a real kiss goodnight and turned her loose to grab her rose. He called after her, "I can't wait to collect!"


End file.
